Endings and Shooting Star Beginnings
by Spotted One
Summary: Jack's world is turned upside-down, but has the hope of a wish made on a falling star. Heartbreak, murder and hope, who could ask for anything more?
1. Quick hello and disclaimer

Um.....Hey there, if you are reading this, thank you. As stated in my quick bio, I have been reading stories around here for a few weeks and decided to register only so I could review with a signature and show appreciation.  
  
For those of you who have already started this story, I've rearranged the order of the chapters so this appears in the front instead of in the middle. Bear with me, I'm over 30 and new to this whole process...but I am really enjoying the writing  
  
Anyway, this story was started late one night as an answer to writer's block. I'm not sure where it's going yet so I am unable to label it as drama, romance, ect. As well as the rating, I chose PG knowing it will not be too risqué, but feeling it might have something in it that might not be suitable for all.  
  
Oh yeah, this was my answer to writer's block, I've been working on a book for a few months now and am hung up on dialogue. I have a couple more chapters for this story, but I'm hoping to hear from some of you on whether I should bother going on or just hang it up gracefully.  
  
I tend to ramble a bit, but sometimes my thoughts just do not seem to organize well, but this is a biggie, other than that whole disclaimer thing: I DO NOT own the Newsies, yada, yada, making no money.have none, please don't sue me..but other than that, I can read the New York accent, but I cannot write it to save my life. So, if you could all just read it like it is supposed to be there, that fixes the problem for me and makes it readable for you.  
  
With all that said, please sit back, relax and enjoy. Maybe you would like a cup of hot cocoa. Sure, I'll be right back.. Oh, and if you could review and tell me what you think, I would appreciate that greatly. 


	2. One

Hooking thumbs into his belt loops, staring at the ground in trance as he kicked up dust shuffling his feet, despondent look on his face, Jack slowly walked back to the Lodging House. As he approached the steps leading to the door, he shook his head and thought better of it. Soon the time would come when his friend's curiosity would overtake them enough to ask. For now, the sad cowboy wanted to be alone. Walking around to the alley and climbing up the fire escape, Jack decided to hang out on the roof until after lights out.  
  
Lighthearted chatter from his fellow newsies below floated out the window and up to his rooftop perch. Their laughter made him smile a little for he knew life would go on. The boys would not allow the pain to swallow him. Together they would do what ever in their power to help. It was their nature; to survive they learned to live as a family, to come to the aid of one another, to comfort. Until then Jack wanted time to collect his thoughts. He knew that once he recanted the events, the scene in his mind would give way to their distorted views in way of aiding his psychological healing.  
  
What cruel irony he thought as his heart felt deeply clouded, but not a one hung in the sky. Gazing out at the star-filled night, Jack sat on a crate and began to reflect.  
  
Thoughts about from where he had just come swarmed his mind with heavy sorrow. The evening started out normal enough. Two hours ago after having showered and spiffied up a bit, Jack left the Lodging House to see Sarah, his Sarah, the love of his life. It had taken him a few days to muster up the courage to tell her he wanted to leave his life as a single man and start a new one.  
  
When he moved into the Lodging House as a young boy of eleven, he had given Kloppman for safekeeping, the one and only piece of his mother he had left, a ring. It was a very simple ring, a rose gold band with a small speck of a diamond. Before his mother, it had belonged to his grandmother and now he wanted to give it to his future bride. Jack had taken the ring with him with the intent of asking her to marry.  
  
Mrs. Jacobs opened the door, greeted and invited him into the apartment. "Good evening Jack, Sarah should be home from work in a few minutes. David and Les are on the fire escape working on Les' reading lesson."  
  
Nodding a slight thank you, he walked over to the window and stepped outside joining David and Les. He smiled at the look on the little boy's face in concentration.  
  
"What are you reading there, Les?"  
  
"The Invisible Man."  
  
"Well, he's trying anyway." David smiled down at his younger brother. "You keep working on it Les, I want to talk to Jack alone."  
  
David led Jack up to the next landing and sat on a step. "I have not told anyone this yet Jack, but I need some advice."  
  
"I'm listening."  
  
"Khaos, you know, the new girl over in Brooklyn."  
  
"Yea, I know, what about her?" Jack knew what David was going to tell him. Very poorly David tried to hide his feelings for her.  
  
"I like her, have for awhile now and well, I seem to loose the ability to speak whenever she is around."  
  
"The Walking Mouth losing his facilities around a girl?"  
  
"Okay, your sarcasm is not needed right now, what I need from you is advice."  
  
"Sorry, you're asking my advice?"  
  
"Yes, what should I do?"  
  
"Break through the wall Davie and ask her out."  
  
"Easy for you to say my friend."  
  
"You talked to Spot, the most feared newsie in all of New York state or city, knowing that no one else would. That took more guts than talking to any girl."  
  
"Yeah, I guess it did. You're right Jack, I'll ask her the next time I see her."  
  
"David, Les, Jack time to come in for dinner."  
  
"Coming Papa."  
  
After dinner, Jack led Sarah to the roof as on many previous occasions. It was their sanctuary, their place. Placing his hands on her waist, he lifted her up onto the ledge so he could see clearly into her eyes. "Sarah, there's something I have been wanting to ask you." He said as he took the ring from his pocket. "I've been thinking for awhile now that we should.." Before he could finish Sarah interrupted.  
  
"Jack, I have been offered a governess job upstate." Sarah said quickly, "I shall be leaving in the morning. I am sorry; I wanted to tell you about the offer sooner, but every time I tried, well, I just could not bring myself to say the words aloud. I have said them over and over to myself trying to find the right way to tell you."  
  
"What about us, Sarah?"  
  
"I'm leaving, Jack. I accepted the position with the Normans to get away from the life I have lived here."  
  
"You're leaving to get away from me."  
  
"Not you, from being poor, having nothing. I will be able to send money home to Papa and Mama to help with Davie and Les. You know he will never be able to work again with his arm. They need me to do this as much as I do. Please understand."  
  
"I'll go with you then."  
  
"No, Jack, you have your life here and while you may have once dreamed of Santa Fe, you are happy here. I have seen it in your eyes while trying to teach Davie and Les how to defend themselves against the Delancey brothers. I have seen it when you are out selling your papers to unsuspecting customers who have bought based on your 'improved headlines'. I have seen it in your eyes walking around Central Park. You belong here you are needed here. I'm going on alone."  
  
Instead of being betrothed, he was heartbroken. Jack nodded, but he did not understand, could not understand what happened. He tried to hide the hurt she caused him, tried to hide the tears welling up in his eyes, but failed as one stray tear he was unable to wrangle slid down his cheek.  
  
He asked Sarah to say good night to her family, to thank her mother for dinner. Figuring they all knew what had transpired, he did not want to face them, knowing they would feel a need to pity him. More than anything, Jack hated pity. 


	3. Two

"Hey Jack, mind if I join you? I could use a bit of fresh air and a smoke."  
  
"Nah, Kid, have a seat, I could use a bit of company, but it will cost you." He had wanted to be alone, but sometimes alone with someone is better then being alone alone.  
  
"Sure," the boy with the eye patch sat on a crate next to Jack and handed him his "payment", "you want a light to go with that?"  
  
Not waiting for an answer Kid Blink lit his own and held out the match keeping the flame under his friend's cigarette. "The view tonight is amazing. I don't know if I've ever seen this many stars."  
  
He noticed Jack did not seem to be listening. Wondering what was on his mind, but knowing and respecting that Jack was a private person, decided not to ask. Kid knew he had gone over to see Sarah earlier and supposed the trance somehow related. When he was ready, Jack would talk and not before. Instead of asking about his mood or of Sarah, Kid decided to tell him about his adventures in selling.  
  
"Mush and me was out selling today and along comes this rich looking girl. She started to stumble backward so I reached out a hand to help her. Instead of taking the hand of a newsie, she fell on her backside into a huge puddle of mud. Someone else offered her a hand up, which she took, but her feet caught in her dress and she fell backward taking him with her. We had to run away and find a spot to sit or we would have fallen down laughing." Recalling the events, Kid started chuckling, but Jack only smiled a little.  
  
"Well, Jack, I'm going back in, there's a killer poker game going on in there. You wanna join me?"  
  
"No, thanks tho', I'm gonna stay out here a bit longer."  
  
Taking the hint, Kid Blink stepped over the edge of the roof and onto the fire escape. He looked back at his friend with concern then turned back to the metal frame and proceeded down the stairs to the window. Before reaching the landing, he thought he heard a sob from above him. Kid shrugged and ducked into the window.  
  
Tears stung his eyes as Jack relived his relationship with Sarah. They had only had a brief nine months of courting, but he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. What had gone wrong, why had she not felt the same? He could not believe he was crying. After everything else he had been through in his life, losing a girl should be easy. His mother died while he was at her bedside, his father arrested on the street in front of him, sent to the orphanage, running away and living on the street, sent to the refuge for stealing food, all before finally finding an older newsie who took him under his wing. Jack lived a lifetime in those few short years, all before the age of eleven.  
  
Before retiring to the bunkroom for the night, Jack took one last look at the sky. He caught a glimpse of the moving light from the corner of his eye. What was it his mother said about shooting stars? Jack closed his eyes tight wrinkling his whole face as he did and made a wish. 


	4. Three

****I forgot this when I uploaded this chapter earlier. On my way out the door and in a huge hurry, it totally slipped my mind to thank you all for your reviews. I needed the encouragement. Enjoy the read and have a great day!!!****  
  
  
  
Jack woke early after a restless night of tossing and turning. He just could not push thoughts of Sarah from his mind. As he lay in his bed starring at the ceiling above, Jack thought about his shooting-star wish. His mother once told him that anything wished on such a star would come true. All he needed was to harbor the patience until then.  
  
Taking a deep breath Jack silently climbed down from his bunk. Quickly he dressed, tied his shoes and ran down the stairs. Because he had showered and shaved the night before skipping them this morning seemed okay.  
  
Kloppman headed up the stairs to wake the boys, he shook his head as he started to climb knowing it would be no easy task. Seemed each morning trying to wake them was more difficult as was trying to talk them into their bunks at night.  
  
Carefully missing the creaking step, he thought he was in the clear until he was face-to-face with the man who ran the lodging house. Silently he cursed his luck.  
  
"Mornin' Cowboy, you must have come in very late last night, we missed you at curfew."  
  
"I was here, up on the roof. I heard you breaking up Race's winning streak and his being none too happy about it."  
  
Kloppman realized the truth in his story. "On the roof, huh, you okay son?" He had known most of the boys for the better part of their adolescent years and this one for almost seven. Practically raising Jack, he grew quite fond of him over the years.  
  
Shrugging he decided to tell the truth. "Sure, girl troubles, you know." Knowing soon enough he would know the whole story.  
  
Before the old man could ask any more questions, he shot out the door down the steps to the street and began the walk that would start his day of selling. Fresh baked warm sweet rolls filled the air as Jack paused in front of the bakery. Cautiously he scanned the World distribution office hoping to buy his papers before anyone else showed. Seeing no one in sight, he hurried over to talk Pulitzer's nephew into selling to him a little early.  
  
"Only fifty papers this morning, Cowboy? You'll be out by lunchtime."  
  
He hoped anyway. "Yeah, Wesley, I thought I might take half the day off and relax."  
  
Wesley knew this far from Jack's normal behavior. On a day when then headlines were less than exciting he bought no fewer than one hundred, but on a day when the papers practically sold themselves, twice that were purchased. Today the news was fairly uneventful, a few notable stories, but nothing major; meaning neither The World nor Jack would be losing as much as they could by his cutback for the day.  
  
Needing a guarantee, he grabbed his papers off the counter and headed for Central Park. Figuring David would find him after talking to Wesley, Jack set out to sell his papers before their confrontation. Why had David not told him about Sarah leaving? They shared everything, or so Jack thought.  
  
Traffic was slow in the park at this time of the morning, but would pick up in fifteen to thirty minutes, giving him time to skim through the stories for possible selling points. Page two contained a picture of a family, father, mother and daughter. Jack thought the man in the picture looked vaguely familiar, but was not able to place him. Below the picture the caption read 'John and Anna Lewis killed in factory explosion, survived by only living heir.' Jack searched the page for the story and read further. "While touring a factory in Queens Tuesday, John and Anna Lewis were trapped inside when a boiler exploded. Cruel child labor of the plant brought to their attention by their daughter, Emerson, caused them to investigate. John Lewis was a major contributor to the board. Losing his support would have caused the factory to shut its doors. His and Mrs. Lewis' deaths have left Emerson the family fortune."  
  
Jack studied the picture further and thought they looked a happy family. Finally, it hit him he knew who the man was; Mr. Lewis backed the strike and offered funding to the newsies cause. Helping them, they were able to stay lodged and fed while fighting Pulitzer and Hurst. He felt sad to think that such a caring man had lost his life.  
  
Farther down the page, he read the story of the factory explosion. One other person died as a result of the boiler problem, but the factory sustained only minor damage and would back up and running soon. Jack found his selling story for the day. Death always created interested buyers, and a death from an explosion a sure sell.  
  
Forty papers sold quickly for him. He was ten away from finishing for the day when David and Les found him.  
  
"I knew we would find you here. I knew it last night after Sarah told us what happen."  
  
"Yea, after what happen. Why didn't you tell me Davie?"  
  
"Les take a few of these papers and go over by the bandstand, please."  
  
"I know, I know, you and Jack want to be alone." Taking the papers David held out for him, Les walked over to look young, cute and sickly to sell by the crowed bandstand.  
  
"Okay, so, talk to me, David, why didn't you tell me? I came over to your house last night to ask her to marry me, to give her my mother's ring. What do I get instead? Sorry, Jack, I'm leaving."  
  
"I, I, I didn't know, Jack, I didn't know. I mean, I knew about the offer, but I did not know she had decided to go. The Normans are old friends of our parents; they have two children and one on the way. Shortly after the doctors told our father he would never be able to go back to work for the factory, they requested Sarah come to live with them and help with the children. She had been trying to find a way not to go, to find a better paying job here. I could not tell you without knowing for sure. She just sent positive word yesterday with a delivery from work. The Normans needed an answer so they could find someone else if she turned them down. She told you before she told any of us."  
  
"I told her I could go with her. I just don't understand why's she leaving me?"  
  
"I wish I knew. If I understood the way girls think, well, that is just mad, no one will ever understand the way they think."  
  
Shaking his head and chuckling a bit, Jack reached over and slapped his friend on the shoulder. "True."  
  
"Are you going to be okay?"  
  
"Yea, I'm just not looking forward to explaining things to the other guys." 


	5. Four

After selling his last paper, Jack helped his selling partners finish. As he was handing his last paper to a customer, he turned to David, "I guess I can't avoid it any longer, let's go meet the gang for lunch."  
  
Once they stepped through the door of the favorite hangout of the newsies, a round of greetings shouted their way. Tibby's was unusually slow for a Wednesday lunch crowd for which Jack was thankful. On the way in, Jack, David, and Les stopped to place their orders with the waiter. After they had their meal orders squared, they looked for a place to sit. Toward the back of the restaurant, were the familiar faces they sought.  
  
"Jack, back here, we saved you guys a seat." Someone from the back flagged them down and yelled.  
  
The trio made their way through the restaurant and found three empty seats against the back wall. David slid in first leaving the outside seat for Jack with Les between them.  
  
"Hey Jack, I bet ya' two bits you can't do this." Hanging a spoon from his elbow a short dark-haired Italian spoke as he showed off his talents.  
  
"Bet Ya', Jack knows better than to take a bet from you." Race, his older brother, scolded.  
  
"Nice try though. In a couple of years he'll be just like his brother."  
  
"Perish the thought." Bet Ya' said rolling his eyes. Up until four days ago, the young boy had been in school. Due to the family tendency toward betting, he was not too politely asked to leave.  
  
Mush was the first one to speak up. "Hey ya, Jack, where were you last night. I wanted to tell you the funny story about what happened to me a Kid while we were selling. You have a late one with Sarah?"  
  
Giving Mush a slight slap on the back of his head, Specs did so out of respect. "Watch your mouth, her brother's here, you jerk."  
  
"Well, guys I was on the roof a couple hours before lights out. I had some thinking to do and it was mostly quiet up there. Except for the few of you who are sore losers, the only noise was a few crickets." He paused looking at David for the strength to go on with his story. Taking a deep breath he was about to start, when someone else had to speak up.  
  
"Yeah, Jack a likely story, you were thinking. Ten to one Jack's improving the truth a little." Racetrack said trying to make money off the other's gullibility as usual.  
  
"Stop Race, he's telling the truth, I was up there with him for awhile last night. Do you remember when you beat me that game and I went out for a breather before coming back so you could beat me again? I didn't say anything because I knew Jack didn't really seem to want visitors."  
  
"Thanks, Kid. I was up on the roof last night after talking to Sarah. As some of you already know, I went over to see her last night to ask her to marry me."  
  
"Yeah, I figured it has something to do with that. So, when's the wedding?  
  
"There isn't going to be a wedding, at least not mine, anytime soon. She is moving upstate to work for a family as a governess."  
  
Mush stood up and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Aww, you're leaving us? We're going to miss you something awful."  
  
"No, Mush, Sarah is leaving me behind the same way she's leaving New York City behind. She's taking the position to help the family as well. The doctor's said Mr. Jacobs would not be able to return to work. In order for them to stay in their apartment, she needs to take the better paying job. She told me last night that she didn't want me to go with her."  
  
"Wow, I knew there was something weighing on your mind last night. I wish I would have asked." Kid decided to keep the part to himself about hearing Jack's sob, a man was entitled to his dignity once and awhile.  
  
"I'm glad you didn't Kid, I knew as soon as I told you guys, it wouldn't be the same for me. I needed some time to think about things and set them straight in my mind. While I don't understand some of what she's doing, I understand parts of it."  
  
"You're talking in circles. What did you just say? Did anyone get what Jack just said? Was it even English?"  
  
"Skittery, you have to pay attention. Jack is speaking the language of a jilted lover. It's sorta English, sort of Greek."  
  
"And Race, just how much experience does you have with the women?"  
  
"Not as much as you Mush, me boy, not as much as you."  
  
Announcing the arrival of more diners, the bell over the door chimed. "Psst, Davie, here's your chance to talk to Khaos." 


	6. Five

*****Thanks to all who reviewed!!! I'm not one for shout-outs, but love group hugs. =) Adding a couple of new characters here, I promise, no Mary Sues here. Enjoy!*****  
  
  
  
Climbing into Sheila's window, Emerson was careful not to stumble over the desk chair her friend never remembered to push back under the desk when she was finished studying. Forgetting, however, her shoes always seemed to be in the middle of the floor. Losing her footing as she tripped a bit, not being the most graceful person anyway, but catching herself just before falling onto the bed she silently cursed her clumsiness. In order to pull off plans running through her mind, Emerson would need to become a bit more catlike and a lot less bull-in-a-china-shop-like.  
  
She sat on the edge of Sheila's bed, the mattress giving slightly under her weight. Sheila would probably not appreciate the late night wake up, but Emerson needed her help. Morning would be upon the city soon and she needed to be on with her plans before the sun fully rose. Daylight would not be her friend until she could find a way to straighten things out.  
  
Funeral services for her parents the day before attracted a huge turnout. While the Lewis' were not high society folk, they did satisfactorily, well respected by many. John inherited a small fortune from a grandfather he had never met, which he was able to invest wisely enough. Being from a poor family himself, he felt it only right to share of bit of his good fortune with those less advantaged. His biggest cause had been children.  
  
Until the Newsboy's strike last summer, John and Anna donated time and money to the House of Refuge. During the strike, it became public knowledge the warden pocketed government allocated funds as well as donated monies. Help from an old childhood friend, made John aware of the plight of the newsies. They needed help with lodging and food until the strike ended. Seeking out the lodging houses, he made sure they had a place to sleep with roof overhead, floor under feet, clean water and money for food to eat.  
  
Emerson closed her eyes briefly and let out a heavy sigh, waking her friend would be no easy task. Known for being able to sleep through the heaviest of thunderstorms, Sheila never seemed to lack rest. Shaking her gently, Emerson decided to try a less aggressive approach. At the slight nudge, she let out a little snore and rolled over onto her other side, facing the wall.  
  
"Psst..Sheila, wake up."  
  
Seeing a faint hint of hope that Sheila heard her, as she mumbled a bit in her sleep, Emerson once again lightly gave her a nudge. What was the answer to her kindness? Nothing, her head gave not even the slightest twitch this time.  
  
Deciding the friendly slant not working fully to her advantage, she gave a hearty shove nearly causing the other to fall between the bed and wall.  
  
"What the.?" Groggily, Sheila rolled over to confront the person who had disturbed her peaceful slumber.  
  
"Shhh, Sheila, it's me, Emerson, I need your help."  
  
"How in the world, did you ever get in here without waking the whole house?"  
  
"Not sure, maybe luck was on my side for a change." Emerson raised her left eyebrow and said with just a hint of sarcasm tinting her voice as she spoke. "Luck is something I could really use about now."  
  
****A/N: Emerson was forty-nine years ahead of her time; she could have been the walking, talking poster child for Murphy's Law. Being the grandmother of Edward Murphy, it was not surprising fortune never seemed to be on her side.****  
  
"You said you needed my help, you couldn't have waited until the sun came up?"  
  
"No, and asking too many questions is not going to aid us in our cause. I need you to help me dye and cut my hair before morning."  
  
"Without waking anyone up, are you crazy?"  
  
"Sheila, please, you know I would not have come to you and woken you up at this hour if it were not important. The less you know right now, the better for you and your family."  
  
Emerson was not in the habit of asking anyone for help with anything. As an only child, she learned to be independent. Always willing to lend a needed hand, but hardly taking one when offered, she was stubborn. Sheila knew whatever her problem it had to be huge.  
  
"Where do we start?"  
  
"Well, I know the slightest change can sometimes make the biggest difference so I'm thinking cutting a few inches off and wearing it a bit different will help lots."  
  
"Stay here while I find Lila's shears."  
  
While Sheila searched for her sister's scissors, Emerson looked at her reflection. Thought it was dark, the moon was full making it not impossible to see. Her father loved her hair long so she let it grow until it reached just above where she sat. It was light brown and full of wave similar to her mothers. Because of its distinct length and color, she was easy to notice. And being noticed was something she needed to avoid for awhile.  
  
Sheila, carrying an oil lap, returned with the scissors. "I just learned I'm not the only one who sleeps like the dead in this house. Lila never moved when I opened her door and rummaged through her bag."  
  
"Quick, we haven't much time." Emerson pulled the desk chair to the middle of the hardwood floor, knowing sweeping it up would be much easier than trying to shake out the rug.  
  
"I have only watched Lila cut hair, I'm not sure."  
  
"I trust you with my life, this is only hair."  
  
"How much should I cut? Maybe it would be better to wake Lila."  
  
"No, I cannot risk anyone else knowing. Cut the back to just above my shoulders and then a light cut in the front for some bangs."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
Emerson nodded and closed her eyes tightly not wanting to watch as her hair fell to the floor around her. Sheila combed and cut for what seemed like an eternity. Fear of cutting it too short, she cut slowly, eyeing very carefully before doing so. Finally, she stepped back eyeing her work.  
  
"Not bad, but you forgot that little swirl you have in the middle of your forehead. The hair will not lie flat."  
  
Looking in the mirror for the first time caused Emerson to close her eyes quickly and take a second look. Sheila's haircutting skill rivaled that of her sisters.  
  
"Now, it is time for a bottle of dye." Pulling a small bottle of the pungent dye from her bag, she handed it to her friend. "Make me beautiful, darling."  
  
The smell was worse than either of them could imagine. Why would anyone, if not for life or death, choose to inhale this stuff? When enough time passed, Emerson stepped into Sheila's private bath to wash the dye from her hair. After washing it for a third time, the rinse water ran clear. Using a towel to dry her head she walked back into the bedroom.  
  
"Well, what do you think?"  
  
"Honestly, if I didn't know it was you, I well, wouldn't know it was you."  
  
  
  
  
  
You like? Please review and let me know what you think so far. Thanks in advance! 


	7. Six

******Thanks again to all who reviewed!!! Tonight, as I make out my Christmas list, I am totally shocked and amazed at my daughter's powers of persuasion and reasoning to me about just why she NEEDS another Barbie doll (we only have 8 around the house and 109 pair of shoes we step on---I don't know about the Barbie's in other households, but ours are addicted to shoes, one for every outfit, hard plastic suckers too--ouch). I am more so at the fact of why she needs a life-sized one.something about not giving her any brothers or sisters to play with. This is guilt right? She's four, how did she become so good with the gift of guilt? Ah well, I suppose she does need one more Barbie.******  
  
  
  
  
  
Jack found himself with a lot of time on his hands. Since Sarah's departure, his friends stepped up to fill the void. Race and Bet Ya' took him to the racetrack one day, Mush and Kid Blink took him swimming another. Evan Spot Conlon, the fearless leader of Brooklyn took a day showing Jack the proper ways of slingshot etiquette. Knowing his friends meant well, he followed along trying to smile.  
  
Saturday afternoon around the lodging house was quiet everyone either out still trying to sell or running around the park. Swimming in April is quite chilly, Jack felt a little ran down with slight cold and decided to take advantage of the quiet. Stopping by the bookshelves on his way up, he pulled off a book and took it up to his bunk. He climbed up, settled in lying on his back, elbows bent slightly book over his head.  
  
Dust fell off the jacket as he opened the book, with all the other things to do around the house, who had time to read. A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court, he chose it because New York was close to Connecticut and by Civil War standards he was a Yankee; figuring it easily might have been about himself, The New York Yankee In King Arthur's Court.  
  
After reading about an hour, he found himself slowly drifting off to sleep. Considering Sarah only left three days ago, his nights not filled much with sleep and the whirlwind of activities the boys had led him on, Jack was tired. As the book fell onto his chest, his dreams plunged heavily into the time travel set by Mark Twain's novel.  
  
Sitting under a large tree gazing out at the vast prairie before him, Jack thought he was alone, until he saw the man on the horse. Dressed in full military armor, the man looked down upon him. Jack thought he had surely gone mad, he closed his eyes and rubbed them thinking the knight a mirage. Opening his eyes once more, he found the man and the horse still there. Wordlessly the man helped him to his feet and unto the back of his horse.  
  
Riding to a large fortress, Jack looked around as the horse rode over a drawbridge. Upon the wall, surrounding the castle stood several men dressed similarly to the one he rode behind, powerfully guarding the parapet for the next attack.  
  
They rode into the main bailey, stopped and dismounted. Once off the horse a very well dressed man approached, Jack snickering slightly at his tights, then looking down at his own finding them no longer funny.  
  
"What have we here, Lancelot?"  
  
"I found him beneath the large oak in the meadow, sire. He is unarmed and appears no threat."  
  
Turning to Jack, the man made inquire to him, "What are you doing here, do you not know these are dangerous times? Well, on with it then, what are you called?"  
  
"I, um, I am Jack, sir, I'm not sure how I got here, where I am, or who you are."  
  
"Why you are in Camelot."  
  
"Camelot?"  
  
"King Arthur's court, surely you have knowledge of it."  
  
Uncle Leonard once told him bedtime stories of King Arthur. The book he was reading before he found himself here was about Camelot, but other than those stories, Jack had no knowledge of the man before him or his kingdom.  
  
Feeling his explanation might sound a bit as the ramblings of a crazy man, he kept his answer short. "No."  
  
Sighing, the well-dressed man set off to explain where he was. "I am King Arthur and you are in Camelot, my kingdom, this is Sir Lancelot, my noblest knight and most trusted friend. You have come into my kingdom while we are under great duress. Come, let us retire to the Great Hall to dine, I will tell you of our troubles."  
  
Jack, more than a little slightly stunned, followed Arthur and Lancelot into the castle taking note of everything as they passed into the Great Hall. Once inside, he looked around taking a quick 360 as he walked. Clearly, the room had been named fittingly, for it was large, hangings on every wall, floor covered in ornamental runners, and heavy wooden tables laden with more food than Jack had ever seen surrounded the room. They offered him the seat of honor, which he took between the two men.  
  
King Arthur told Jack of fights with giants, attacks of dragons and defending against other kingdoms. He spoke of his Round Table, the knights who assembled the table and of why it was round.  
  
While listening, Jack glanced about the room observing occupants of other tables. Everyone appeared happy to be here, not a care in the world, knowing their king and Knights of the Round Table would take care of them. Then he saw her, sitting next to and looking very cozy with a knight in the corner. He knew it was her, for it could be none other, there in the corner was his Sarah. Sarah and another love, instantly Jack understood. Comprehension finally replaced the confusion he felt the past few days. Knowing was much better than wondering and moving on was much better than dwelling. He smiled now aware there would be no going back and his future was as bright as a falling star.  
  
Turning back to King Arthur, Jack was able to give his full attention for the first time to anything since that night up on the roof. It seemed Camelot would soon be under attack. Times were confusing, the need to expand territory keeping them in constant war. Jack understood the need to defend territory, as he frequently had to do so back in New York. Sir Lancelot, he learned, found him while out scouting for enemy's laying in wait.  
  
Being used to the fight, Jack, offered his services, set up for the challenge of training. Sir Lancelot felt he looked suitable for the joust preparing him with instructions of riding and striking. Sitting atop his horse, lance in hand, Jack shook his head, climbing down. While he could ride a horse, he felt more comfortable fighting on the ground, of this he informed the knight.  
  
"What fighting skills have you?"  
  
"I'm pretty good at soaking anyone who gets in my way."  
  
"Soaking?"  
  
"Er.fist fighting."  
  
"Can ye wield a sword or fire a catapult?"  
  
"Catapult, what's a catapult?"  
  
Sir Lancelot rolled his eyes skyward as if seeking a higher power for assistance. Letting out a heavy sigh, he pulled Jack by the arm and led him over to the battlegrounds.  
  
Pointing at a large contraption made of wood as three men fired a boulder over the wall.  
  
"Wow, look at the size of that slingshot! Wait until Spot hears about this."  
  
"Yes, well, can you fire it?"  
  
"You bet I can, I mean, yes sir."  
  
"Good well then I will leave you in the able hands of Sir Kay."  
  
Sir Kay was the short, stout man in charge of the catapult. Showing Jack where to stand, how to load and to jump out of the way after firing, he stepped back allowing Jack to take his position on the team.  
  
A small ruckus upon the wall made everyone take attention. One of the men yelled from his position. "Man your stations. We have enemy fire."  
  
Jack readied himself for battle, loading a large boulder onto the catapult and taking aim.  
  
"Fire."  
  
Jack woke to someone yelling while shaking his bunk. Looking down he saw Mush's panicked face imploring him out of bed. Without word, he jumped to the floor and followed, relieved to notice he was no longer wearing tights, explaining them to the guys, well, that would have been difficult. When they reached the ground floor just outside the living room, the smoke hit him, stinging his eyes, the back of his throat. It seemed Race had been disobeying house rules again, smoking in the lounge area setting the curtains on fire.  
  
Kloppman was in the kitchen trying to find the fire extinguisher as the flames shot toward the ceiling. Noting this, Jack motioned to Mush.  
  
"Stand on the back of the couch with me and pull the rod away from the wall. Let's get it outside before the fire spreads to the rest of the house." 


	8. Seven

Jonesy sat feet on desk, leaning back in his chair, hands on the back of his head, fingers laced, mystified at how wrongly things could go. The girl, supposed to be touring the factory with her parents slipped out before the explosion. Knowing his boss was not a reasonable man, Jonesy thought the accident through in his mind. Things were perfectly planned, steam pressure had been turned high and the pipe clamped shut from overhead. John and Anna Lewis paused briefly during this part of the tour never to resume. Sammy, a young man slow of wit, was sent to clean up a spill for safety reasons; safety for his boss and the future of the factory, but not Sammy or the Lewis'.  
  
With the Lewis family out of the way before John could consult with his lawyer regarding factory-working conditions for the children, Mr. Blackburn and his company could continue. Investments to the board halted only if someone from the family contacted the attorney with such information.  
  
Yes, there were children working in the factory doing some very unpleasant work for low wages and people such as John and Anna would never understand. Some jobs were just too tight for a full-grown adult; this fact escaped the comprehension of this man, his wife and his daughter. The men working in the factory supported families and needed higher earnings than the children who could work for pennies a day.  
  
The daughter. She was the one to blame, that nosey girl. Why could she not keep her mouth shut? Telling her father about the little boy's badly burnt body sparked their investigation. What difference could losing a few homeless brats make? Most of them lived on the streets, eyesores of the city.  
  
Jonesy smiled thinking about the girl. He still planned to take care of her, oh yes. He would do it now for his own pleasure instead of the money. She made him look a fool and no one did such a thing to Jonesy especially not a rich little brat.  
  
Without the warning of a knock, the office door flew open and Mr. Blackburn stepped inside. A man of considerable stature, he needed to duck to walk under the doorframe. Jonesy took note of the man's clothing, a pair of well-worn pants, faded blue shirt, a hat pulled low on his face. When visiting the office of a man known for his career as a professional assassin it was better to do so in disguise. He walked into the office, closed the door behind him, and removed his hat. Taking a seat across the desk from the hired killer, Blackburn cleared his throat in preparation to speak.  
  
"The girl is a problem, a problem which needs to be taken care of quickly."  
  
"I know sir; I am already working on the plans to remove the problem."  
  
"Well, stop working on it and see that it is done. I will not have that nosey girl ruin everything I have worked so hard to achieve."  
  
Jonesy rolled his eyes, hoping the man did not notice, but nodded his head in agreement. 'Everything he worked for indeed.' He knew who the real workers were, the men and children who made the fortune for this man. They toiled all day and all night so he could sleep in satin pajamas under silk sheets, yes, he knew. Looking down his nose at all those lower than himself, this man never worked a day in his life.  
  
"It's going to take more money to finish the job." Even though he would do it, principle negated the need for money; he felt the man should pay for another hit.  
  
"I have already paid you; I have no intention of giving you more money."  
  
"You paid me to take care of things at the factory, the girl wasn't at the factory, therefore, this is a separate contract."  
  
Mr. Blackburn sighed inwardly, he felt dirty in these clothes, wanting nothing more than to finish negotiation with the disgusting man who sat across from him so he could go home and bathe. Giving in was not in his nature, but the filth in which he sat relented to his generous side. Feeling the grime and dirt leave the walls and seep onto his skin through the threadbare clothing, he was willing to agree to almost anything the man asked, but not without a little fight. Revolting little man, his greasy hair, what hair he had left anyway, combed over the shiny bald spot in the middle, shirt dirty, covered in food stains not fully tucked into his pants revealing a hairy full stomach. The sooner he left the sight of this vomit- inducing man, the better.  
  
"Okay, what do you want?"  
  
"That's better; it's going to take another thousand."  
  
"Another thousand, are you mad?"  
  
"Take it or leave it, but your time is short, why I'm sure she'll be seeing that lawyer as soon as the funerals are over."  
  
"Fine, you will have your money, just be sure not to mess things up this time." 


	9. Eight

******Thanks again to all who reviewed. I appreciate your kind words of encouragement. A special thanks to Raeghann for dealing with my whining into the wee hours of morning.******  
  
  
  
  
  
Sheila observed the dark circles adorning Emerson's eyes. Whatever she was facing, it had her very afraid. Afraid to sleep, afraid of shadows, afraid of things once taken for granted, fear is what brought her to Sheila's room, caused her to cut and dye her hair. Feeling her friend's pain, she wished for some way ease Emerson's heavy heart.  
  
"Em, why don't you take some time to rest, you need to sleep. You will be safe here. I promise not to tell anyone."  
  
Emerson looked into the caring eyes of her friend and knew she meant well. She should never have come here, risking the lives of others was not her intention and she was afraid that might be the result. Tears welled up in her eyes; she wanted so badly to share everything with Sheila. To tell her of the factory worker who approached and hugged her during her parents' funeral. She had never seen him before and the hug seemed a bit inappropriate, until he whispered something in her ear. There would come a day when she could, but until that time, Emerson hoped Sheila and her family would not be compromised due to her actions.  
  
"I really cannot, but thank you for everything you have done. I must be off before the sun starts to rise."  
  
"Please, tell me where you are off to, I hate the thought of you being out there alone."  
  
"I wish I could, but try not to worry."  
  
"You know that is much easier said than done, I wish there were more I could do. I feel so helpless."  
  
"Well, there is one thing I would like to ask you to do for me, that is, if you do not mind too much."  
  
"Of course not, you should know I would do anything to help you."  
  
"I know. What I need you to do is deliver this package to Mr. Phiscomb's office. He has left for holiday and will be back eight in the morning on Friday."  
  
Sheila nodded and took the large envelope from her. "Be careful out there please. I will respect your wishes and not ask further questions, but I need you to tell me you are going to be okay."  
  
"I will, I promise." Fear crept into Emerson as she attempted to reassure her friend. About to face unfamiliar places, faces and circumstances, she had no right to make such a guarantee. It seemed to soothe Sheila some and for now that was most important.  
  
Hugging her best friend, Emerson made her way out the window. When she emerged on the other side, she was facing the world a new person. At least she looked the part and that was all that mattered.  
  
Yawing and stretching the fingers of the sun started to touch the New York horizon as Emerson's feet hit the ground. Quickly running toward the alley behind the house, she planned to make her way through the back streets and alleys using the shadows and lack of traffic as her friends.  
  
Arriving at her destination, Emerson carefully looked around to be sure no one was watching before climbing up the fire escape to the open window. Cigarette butts covered the landing, which made her smile slightly. Remembering the outing, she and her father made last summer to this place and the young men who smoked from the rooftop telling their stories of life on the street. One story in particular moved her enough to bring tears.  
  
"We found him in an alley, Race and me," the tallest of the group said gesturing toward a boy of smaller stature, but bigger of mouth, "clinging to his mother. When asked what was wrong, he told his she wouldn't wake up. We knew by the smell she had been gone a day or two. He just sat there trying to talk to her, looked as if he hadn't slept for days himself."  
  
Where he paused, the one called Race picked up the story. "Jack picked him up and brought him back here. He's been with us ever since, our little Dare."  
  
Her father just nodded as he heard "our little dear", but Emerson was sure she heard otherwise. "I'm sorry; did you just call the boy Dare? He's such a little one, how was it he picked up such a nickname?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, that's on a count he's always making dares to everyone." Jack spoke back up interrupting an open-mouthed ready to talk Race.  
  
"Well, young man, that was quite a kind thing for you to do." John looked admirably at the boy.  
  
"One day someone helped me when I was in a similar situation, it wasn't nothin'."  
  
It was that conversation which convinced John Lewis to support the boys during their strike. Word came to him from an old high school friend about some of the former house of refuge inmates might need a little financial support. He was told of the strike and the union formed by the boys, of the reporter who befriended them and the greedy newspaper men, of boys armed with sticks and slingshots being attacked by grown men. Here, less than a year ago, John found his cause.  
  
Climbing into the open third floor window, Emerson was surprised to find a few furnishings and not surprised to find a lot of dust. A mattress leaned against the wall next to a cabinet. Opening the cabinet, she found a slightly stained pillow and blanket. Well, it was far from home, but it was better than being on the run. Life as she had known it would never be the same, her parents were dead and had it not been for a case of food poisoning she would have been too.  
  
She pulled the mattress to lie on the floor, removed her shoes, fluffed the pillow and pulled the blanket over her. Realizing then it had been since before her parents' death that she had had a decent night of sleep, Emerson yawned and closed her eyes. Before another thought could invade her mind, she was asleep.  
  
  
  
******Okay, I know you think you know where this is going, but I'm out to prove you wrong. Hope you'll be back for more.******* 


	10. Nine

*****Once again, thanks for the reviews. You might find a bit of fluff here. Is fluff a good thing or a bad thing, I forget. I know I'm turning Jack into a total sap here taking away his tough guy image, but if given the chance don't they all have a soft side somewhere? His trigger was found.*****  
  
  
  
  
  
Blisters among the calluses made selling difficult for Jack on Sunday. He knew they should be bandaged, but he did not want to draw further attention to them. Looking scornfully at Race, he set off with Davie and Les hoping his expertise in headline hawking would aid in their selling out quickly.  
  
"Is everyone at the house okay? We heard about the fire."  
  
"Yeah, everyone's fine. Mush and me was able to take the curtains into the street and stomp them out before anyone got hurt."  
  
"Wow, Jack you saved the all the newsies and the whole house." Looking up with admiration in his eyes, Les found a way to over dramatize the whole event.  
  
Jack looked down at the younger boy, ran a hand over his head, winced slightly hoping neither would notice and smiled. The worship from Les caused him to feel a little pride and arrogance. "Yeah, I guess we did."  
  
Observing the wince caused David to seek the source. Seeing the blisters on his hands, David's eyebrows raised in question. Jack saw the look and shrugged, carefully tucking them into his pockets to avoid further inspection. Deciding better not to ask, his being a hero to Les and all, David sought a topic of conversation.  
  
"Where should we sell today, our regular spot or something new?"  
  
"I think we should head over toward Brooklyn to find Khaos. I can't believe you, Davie, chickening out, she was right there."  
  
"I know, I know, how many times do you have to bring this up?" Shortly after Khaos entered Tibby's Wednesday afternoon, David and Les had left to see Sarah off on her train causing him to miss his first chance to talk to her after admitting his feelings to someone. Changing the subject back to their selling spot as quickly as it had been sent off course. "I'm thinking Irving Hall, might be good to us for a change. What do you say?"  
  
In full agreement, the threesome turned and headed in the direction of Irving Hall and Medda. Whenever they needed quick sell, Medda's was almost better than Central Park at lunchtime. Her customers bought their papers in order to stop them from walking the aisles.  
  
David felt it might be better for them to sell in silence for a change. Not wanting to talk about Khaos, listen to Jack's incessant needling about her, nor wishing to discuss Sarah and her reasons for departure, Medda's had been his suggestion. He noticed though that Jack seemed different somehow, not looking so miserable.  
  
"Hey, Les, I started reading this incredible book."  
  
"You, read?"  
  
"Yes, Davey, I read. I had some alone time yesterday. With things being quiet, I picked a book of the shelf and decided to do something with the quiet."  
  
"What was it, what book did you choose?"  
  
"Well, Les, I was reading about Camelot."  
  
"What's Camelot?"  
  
"Camelot is the kingdom of King Arthur."  
  
"Wow, a king? Does he have knights with swords?"  
  
"Yeah, Les, knights with swords and armor and slingshots."  
  
At this, David raised an eyebrow, "Slingshots?"  
  
"Yeah, slingshots, made out of wood. They shot big rocks over the castle walls."  
  
"I think you mean catapults."  
  
"Um, yeah, that's the word, catapults."  
  
"And may I ask what you learned while reading about Camelot?"  
  
"Dave, I learned why Sarah left. She may have gone to make money, but I know she has someone else."  
  
"You learned this from a book?"  
  
"Sort of, yes, I mean, well, yes, I know. Isn't that all that matters?" Jack did not intend to explain the dream, or the tights.  
  
David now knew what caused the change in his attitude and found himself surprised over the reaction. Asking about the newly adopted outlook was not in order, knowing Jack was moving on was all he needed to know.  
  
Adjusting to the darkness once they entered Medda's took only a few seconds. As the singing acts were not due to start for another hour, the boys went back stage to see the star. Finding Medda in her office sitting on her couch, head in hands clearly distraught, Jack handed his papers to David as he moved to sit next to her.  
  
Placing his hand on her far shoulder, Jack leaned against the woman in a sign of support. This gesture caused her sobbing became more intense. Looking up at David and Les, he signaled for them to leave the room. David stood mesmerized by the woman's crying. Medda seemed so strong, true she was caring offering moral support wherever she saw a need, but crying seemed beyond her. Les took Jack's cue dragging his brother from the room, closing the door behind them.  
  
Next to him sat a woman he had known most of his life, a friend of the family, well his father's friend anyway, Medda had always been there. When his father was taken into custody, Medda introduced him to the newsies, assuring he would have a place to sleep and older boys around to teach him the ways of the streets. On several occasions while trying to hide from the bulls, Jack ducked into Irving Hall, Medda more than happy to provide him with lodging for the night if need be and a lie or two to the men looking for him.  
  
"Medda?" It was only one word, but served to uncork the emotions she was feeling.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jack, it's just that an old friend of mine and his wife died. They were touring an old factory he sponsored when a boiler pipe backed up causing an explosion. Poor John and Anne, they were such kind people. Their funeral was just Friday and now their daughter has gone missing."  
  
"I remember reading about that in the papes the other day. He's the guy what helped us during the strike and all ain't he?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"They came to the lodging house one time, the man and the daughter. Just sat up on the roof with us smoking and sharing stories, you'd never know they was people with money. They listened to us like they really cared too."  
  
"John had a gift that way. When he saw a need, he just wanted to help in any way he could. Emerson, his daughter is the same way."  
  
"We told them about how we'd all come to be newsies." Jack said recalling the events of that day. "She seemed to actually be interested in what we had to say."  
  
"And I'm sure; she was genuinely interested, in the stories, not just the person telling them. They Lewis' were good people. I hope wherever Emerson is, that she is safe." 


	11. Ten

Okay, if you're reading this, you know I'm not into the whole shout out thing, but that's because I'm well..old, but I would like to thank all of those who have reviewed and to make a couple of comments. I know that you all are thinking there is going to be a romantic thing between Emerson and Jack, no comment here, you'll just have to keep reading to find out what happens. *maniacal grin and little chuckle* As for my daughter and her Barbie, she's just too cute to say "no" to and being an only child often gets her way. Yes, her parents are softies too. =) Anyway..thanks again, I hope you enjoy this chapter and that it leaves you guessing a bit...  
  
  
  
  
  
Shivering, Emerson woke to find she kicked the covers off during a nightmare and remembered she was not tucked in cozy and sound in her own bed, in her own home, with her mother and father. How she missed them both terribly. Mother, her warm, friendly smile could always steal the bad thoughts from her mind. Anne Lewis had a way of lighting up the world with that smile. Father, his kind heart and gentle nature was soft-spoken. John was the custodian of good deeds. He never walked away from the outstretched hand of someone in need. Their caring ways, the need to help others is why she was lying here on this mattress on the cold floor.  
  
************************************ During her parents funeral a man approached her to convey sympathies and condolences. He wrapped his arms around her in a most unexpected hug, leaning into whisper in her ear. Well-spoken, Emerson would learn later the man began his college education before his father passed away leaving him to support his mother, two sisters and a sickly little brother. It only lasted a minute or two, but seemed much longer for what he said would change her life even more.  
  
"Don't be afraid, of me Emerson, I mean you no harm."  
  
Fighting the trembling urge, she spoke instead, "Who are you?"  
  
"I am an employee of the factory where your parents were murdered."  
  
"Murdered? You must be mistaken there was an accident."  
  
"You have to believe me, please, your parents were murdered. You were meant to be at that place with them on the tour, you were meant to be murdered as well. Emerson, you are not safe."  
  
"Surely, you must be mistaken. Who would want to harm my family?"  
  
"There was a young man, a slow learner, you might say, cleaning up a spill near the pipe which caused your parents tour to be delayed. It was no accident the acid spill happened just beside the pipe. You see, this interruption in their visit gave the steam time to build up pressure."  
  
"You mean Sammy..?"  
  
"No, of course not, Sammy would never hurt anyone. It wasn't in him. He was sent by someone to clean up that spill."  
  
"You mean Mr. Blackburn, don't you? Why would Mr. Blackburn want my family dead? Father was a major contributor to the company."  
  
"Things were running quite smoothly for him too, until you came along one fate filled afternoon. When you saw that little boy, the one who died from the burns, telling your father about the working conditions for the children, Blackburn knew your father would pull out his investments. Unless there wasn't a member of the Lewis family around to talk to the lawyers, he would lose everything. You are in danger now because you knew."  
  
Emerson pulled away from the man, the look in his eyes telling her everything he told her was true.  
  
Aloud the man spoke to her again. "I'm so sorry for your loss." *****************************  
  
Moonlight feel across the floor as another cloudless night filled the sky. Standing to stretch she realized she slept the whole day away, missing all meals and the setting sun. Neglecting to eat was not as important as missing the sunset.  
  
Every evening she and her father would watch the event together, ending the day as perfectly as it started. Remembering her father caused Emerson to smile through her tears. He had been such a wonderful father, helping her to see things in a different light. She learned not to take such things as sunrises and sunsets for granted, to make the most of the time between, to reach out a hand to help anyone in need, for someday she might be the one in need.  
  
Standing beside the window, she looked out at the stars, thought silently to him that now she needed that hand and hoped he would help guide it to her. So lost in thought Emerson forgot to watch where she walked and being the catlike nature she hoped for had not kicked in, tripped over an abandon stack of newspapers causing her to fall and whack her elbow on the windowsill.  
  
Funny bone, what fool came up with that term? There was hardly anything funny about the pain shooting from her elbow to her wrist, it should have been called the hurts-like- hell bone. Sitting up, she rubbed the sore spot trying to regain her bearings with total disregard to the noise made while performing her acrobatic fall.  
  
Jack woke to a dull thud above the bunkroom. Looking around he observed no one else had been disturbed by the noise, probably just a mouse knocking something over. Something inside nagged him to go up and check just to be sure, he was after all the one in charge.  
  
Reaching the top of the stairs, he stopped and saw her sitting in the moonlight holding her left elbow. Stunned he realized his wish finally came to fruition. There she sat in the light cast over her by the moon, his Sarah. 


	12. Eleven

Thank you once again for the sweet reviews!! I must apologize to you for the delay in updating and will try to keep the explanation short (yeah, right). I have left my position as a therapist, or am leaving and have taken on a new position. I've been putting in about 60 hrs between offices, couple that with the nasty cold (bronchitis) I've had and a 4 year old and well..enough excuses..on with the show..hope you enjoy this.  
  
  
  
  
  
Not believing his eyes, he briefly held his breath fearing it might only be a dream, a dream that his shooting star wish finally came true, but it was not a dream for there she was sitting on the floor in front of him. Rolling his eyes skyward, he silently thanked his mother for her words of wisdom all those years ago never to pass up the chance to make a wish, whether it be blowing out candles, falling stars, or throwing a much needed, hard earned penny into a fountain. Jack paused at the top of the stairs, swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to find his voice to speak.  
  
"Sarah?"  
  
Emerson jumped at the sound behind her almost afraid to turn to face the voice. She found the voice vaguely familiar, but was unable to place it right away, knowing it had to belong to one of the young men who lived below. Feeling him move toward her, Emerson attempted to stand. Applying weight to the right ankle produced extreme pain causing flailing arms as she began to fall.  
  
Catching her just in time for both of them to land in a heap on the floor, Jack planted a light kiss on her lips. With Emerson in his lap, Jack took a closer look at the girl's face and realized he had mistaken her identity. She resembled Sarah in many ways especially in the moonlit room, but her eyes revealed the physical similarly was as far as any resemblance went. These eyes were warm, caring and full of something he had rarely seen before, hope. They almost seemed to see right through him to his soul.  
  
She was taken aback for only a minute before making the move away from the boy and choosing to ignore the kiss lest embarrass them both. Sliding off his lap, over to the stack of newspapers she had tripped over, Emerson looked down at her rescuer. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else."  
  
"I figured as much. I am sorry to have woken you; I tripped over these papers and hit my elbow on the ledge." Touching the pile beneath her, she explained the noise she caused.  
  
"Um, beg pardon, but who are you and what are you doing here? Do you know where you are?"  
  
Taking a deep breath, Emerson thought back to that time on the roof and the stories the boys shared with her and her father and knew if she could trust anyone with her own story, she could trust the newsies. Her heart ached to tell her story to someone, needing to vent some of the pent-up pain and confusion lying within. Not wanted to bring anyone else into harm over her problems, she hesitated briefly before deciding she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.  
  
"Yes, I know where I am, my name is Emerson Lewis and I was hoping to hide out here for a few days."  
  
Before she was able to continue, Jack broke in with a thought of his own. "Emerson Lewis, now why does that name sound so familiar?" He paused only briefly before remembering his earlier conversation with Medda. "You're John's daughter, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes. That is why I am here. My parents were killed a few days ago." She went on with her story, telling Jack of the day she passed by the factory witnessing the dead child which led to the factory tour. She told him how she spent the better part of it in the washroom with food poisoning, about her parent's death, the funeral, the man who talked to her and her plans to lie low until her father's lawyer came back into town.  
  
"I thought I could stay here without anyone knowing and slip out to Mr. Phiscomb's office on Friday. I realize it is not a very well thought out plan, but I have nowhere else to go."  
  
Emerson was normally an emotional person anyway, and telling the events that brought her to the lodging house opened the floodgates causing tears to slide down her cheeks like a waterfall.  
  
Realizing her need to release all the mental anguish she felt, Jack thought it better to move up to the roof for fear of waking the sleeping boys below. Standing, he walked over, picked up one of the blankets off the floor and back to Emerson offering her a hand up. "Can you walk?"  
  
Nodding she took his hand, rose, adding a little weight to her ankle. It ached a bit, but with some movement would be fine. She must have just twisted it when she fell.  
  
Jack stepped out the window and on to the fire escape offering a hand to steady Emerson as she joined him. Once on the roof he motioned to a makeshift davenport fashioned of crates and cushions for her to sit.  
  
The night air was a little chilly, but just what she needed to clear her mind. Goosebumps covered her arms and a rush of cold caused a quick shiver. Taking the blanket, Jack unfolded it, threw it around her shoulders and sat down beside her.  
  
"Thank you. Again, I am terribly sorry."  
  
"No, need, we all have our stories here in the house and we are always willing to help someone trying to hide. Why I've had to do it myself a few times, well, more than a few times, but who's counting."  
  
Finally looking into the eyes of the boy, Emerson realized he was the young man who seemed to be the leader of the pack. The one they called, what was it again, she could not remember. Guardian of the younger boys, protector of their young and innocent lives, defender and big brother for many of them, he was the one they trusted. She would need to learn to trust him too. Cowboy that was what they called him, Cowboy, quite the strange name for someone who lives in New York City. The nearest cow was miles away.  
  
Until the past week, her life had been fairly easy, but trust had been difficult for Emerson having seen it betrayed so many times. John and Anna were very trusting people, too trusting in her eyes after seeing them deceived time after time. John never gave up trying to find the good in people or in trusting them. Wanting to share in this trait, Emerson tried, but found herself cautious, heavily guarding herself against heartache. 


	13. Twelve

Sitting next to her on the "couch", Jack felt a bit awkward due to the falling tears that flowed nonstop down the girl's face as she continued her story. He wanted to comfort her somehow; unsure in what manner to do so. Comforting Sarah in her many times of need had come easy for him, but Emerson was different. The inner strength she radiated told him she did not want him to feel sorry for her, to pity her in any way, yet his want deepened by his knowledge.  
  
Knowing she endured many confusing and frightening events over the past few days added in his need and want to comfort. Struggling internally over what move, if any, to make, Jack found himself bewildered having never questioned what to do for the emotionally weak Sarah. Emerson seeming to read his thoughts, briefly forgot where she was, who she was with, buried her face into his shoulder. In natural reaction, Jack slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, stroking her hair in a consoling gesture.  
  
Feeling his arm around her, his hand on her hair caused a warm and secure feeling to fall over her. For the first time in days she felt safe, but knew her behavior inappropriate. Realizing what she had done, Emerson quickly sat up pulling herself away apologizing. "I am sorry, that was terribly improper of me." Sitting upright, she wiped away the tears accepting a handkerchief Jack offered to her. She dabbed her cheeks, throat and chest drying the tiny pools of sorrow.  
  
"Emerson, please don't be sorry. Ya been through a lot and they say crying is good for the soul."  
  
"They? Just who are the "they" you speak of?" She asked him teasing slightly, not expecting an answer.  
  
Jack knew she was joking with him, but was going to prove a point, to show he knew just what she thought he did not. True, he had not had a fancy or even a formal education since moving into the lodging house, gaining schooling by reading everything in sight. "You know, doctors, like Jung and Freud."  
  
Startled, Emerson gazed at him carefully for a few seconds studying his face. The look was very intent, jaw line soft, but firmly set showing he spoke of something he knew ready to defend the knowledge.  
  
"Yes, I do know, but."  
  
Before she could finish he interjected finishing for her. "How could I know? Look, I know I haven't had no fancy education like you, but I can read."  
  
Seeing the hurt look in his eyes, Emerson felt horrible. John never looked down his nose at anyone and instilled this trait in her as well. "I owe you an apology. My father taught me never to judge others as unfairly as I have judged you. He would be ashamed of me now."  
  
"It's okay, I'm used to it, most people look down on us. What are we to others anyway? We are like the iron bar by the door used to scrape mud and animal waste off their boots."  
  
"It is not okay. My father never looked down on any of you here; he knew how hard you worked to make less than the pocket change carried by men who hardly work at all. He even thought a few of them should try it for a while to see how easy their own lives are. As for those who think so poorly of you, they do not know you; do not know what you have endured, what you have in your hearts, in your minds, in your souls that make you who you are. If they could see into you as I have, they would see wisdom beyond any of their college educations, loyalty for your friends most of them do not have for their own families and ambition they would almost kill for."  
  
"You know that time when the two of you came here during the strike, I wasn't sure what to make of him, your father, I mean. Not too many people go out of the way to help the working boys of New York and most of the others who have do it to further their own career. At first I wondered if he was here out of pity, but I know for sure, having met you again that wasn't his intent. After he listened to the stories, laughed along and asked all those questions, I knew it was more than that."  
  
"My father hated pity, giving and receiving, but would help anyone in anyway he could. He felt, how should I say, empathy for you. His own beginnings were not very grand. Father tried to instill all his goodwill in me, but I am afraid I will never be all that he wanted."  
  
"Hey, don't sell yourself short. I think given the chance you will prove yourself to be all that and more."  
  
Without any knowledge to what he had done, Jack gave Emerson all the comfort he wanted so badly to give to her earlier. The reassurance that she might be able to make her father proud was just what she needed.  
  
"Thank you, um, I am sorry, you know, I do not even know your name. I remember, I think, the boys calling you Cowboy, but somehow I think there might be more."  
  
"Indeed, the name's Kelly, Jack Kelly."  
  
"Jack, I fear my plan to hide out here at the lodging house may have more than a few holes in it."  
  
"Yes, I think it might. So, I'll ask you to trust me."  
  
"Trust you? Why would I need to trust you?"  
  
"You need to trust me if I'm going to help you."  
  
"But I cannot ask you to."  
  
"You are not asking, fair enough? Just as we did not ask your family for help, I am offering it to you."  
  
"Jack, really, you do not need to feel obligated to help me."  
  
"I don't, if I didn't want to help you, I wouldn't, but I do so I'm going to."  
  
Emerson opened her lips to further protest as Jack placed two fingers on them to stop the words.  
  
"First thing we gotta do is take you to see Medda."  
  
"Medda? You know Medda?"  
  
"She was a friend of my fathers."  
  
"Funny, she was my father's friend as well. I remember sitting in the audience with my parents a few times, my mother slightly jealous never knowing how he had known her, afraid to ask, to learn." Emerson paused remembering her parents once again.  
  
"One of the guys and I went to Irving Hall today to sell and talked to her. Medda and your father were neighbors when they were children. He was like a brother to her and nothing more, I promise you. She is very worried about you, that you might be hurt or in trouble."  
  
"I am afraid I cannot go out, what if someone recognizes me?"  
  
"I didn't recognize you and I saw your picture in the papes a few days ago. Hell, I thought you were Sarah."  
  
"So, that is what you said, who is Sarah?"  
  
"Sarah is my girlfriend, er, she was my girlfriend. She left a week ago to go live upstate."  
  
Emerson seeing pain flash once again into his eyes decided to hold further questions. Maybe she would be able to do something to aid Jack as he helped her.  
  
  
  
I'm back, I'm back!!!! Sorry for the delay in the update, but things, life, job, family, holidays, health issues, well, you know stuff, kept me away for awhile. Thank you once again for the reviews. Hope you enjoy this chapter and that it does not give off an air of Mary Sueism. I am most likely not going where you think I am..more to come soon, I hope 


	14. Thirteen

Well, here it is, I'm finally updating!! WOO HOO!! As you, my three loyal readers and reviewers know, I'm not into the whole shout out thing, but, I offer a brief thank you to Rhapsody, Dreamer and Raeghann for hanging with me on this. You guys are the best!! As for the romance thing, Rhap, I'm honestly not sure where it's going, but I'm not much of a romance writer- heck, I'm not much of a writer period (but you've been reading this and you know that). The update has taken so long because I gave all my OJ and animal crackers to Raeghann and have been finding energy from fruit snacks and belly button lint (ewww, even just typing it seems gross)-gotta have your fiber when you hit my age. Okay, so, without further ado, I shall be off and let you be on with the story. Thanks again!! Happy reading! (Somebody quick take away the exclamation point before I over use it again!!!!!!!)  
  
  
  
  
  
Though tired, Emerson stifled yawn after yawn happy to be in Jack's company, not wanting to cut the time short. For the first time in days she was finally able to release all the thoughts and feelings plaguing her mind while allowing her to feel a bit more at ease. a lot less alone and she was not about to give it up for sleep.  
  
Finished with her own tale, Emerson sat back and listened as Jack spoke. Listening to him recount the events of the strike caused her to flashback again to last July. Once she and John left the lodging house, John spoke of Jack quite fondly. He had instantly taken a liking to the boy, telling Emerson how he wished his employees had half of Jack's drive and ambition. "If given the opportunity that young man could really do something." How right John had been, but his role in the strike did little to help his station in life. For here he was still living the life of a newsie. No sign of regret in his tone or words, just sheer unaltered pride, as he spoke.  
  
"And that's when me and Davey went to talk to Pulitzer to end the strike. You shouldda seen the look on the old man's face when he realized it was his printing press we used to print our paper. I wish Denton couldda been there to take that picture."  
  
Emerson could not help but to smile at the enthusiasm with which Jack spoke. Ironically she and her parents read about the strike in the papers, the very papers which they went to war against. John meant to stop by the lodging house and see the boys again, but time had gotten away from him. During the short self-reminisce time, she failed to hear the footsteps which caused Jack to jump in surprise.  
  
He stood in defense, placing his hand over his heart as the new occupant to the roof became visible. "Mush, you nearly scared me to death."  
  
"Sorry, Jack, I woke up for a drink and noticed you was gone. Just wanted to be sure you was okay."  
  
"I'm fine, there was a little noise in the attic I went to investigate. I discovered the cause of the noise and brought her up here to talk so as not to wake the whole house."  
  
Jack stepped slightly aside for Mush to see Emerson seated on the crates. Nodding Mush pulled a cigarette out from behind his ear, lit it and blew a ring of smoke before speaking again.  
  
"Hello there Sarah, how are things up state?"  
  
"You see, I told you people wouldn't recognize you." Jack said with a smile and a quick snort.  
  
Smiling back, she rose from the crate walking over to where Mush stood. "Do you have another one of those?"  
  
"You don't smoke Sarah." Looking from Jack to Emerson and back again caused him to realize his mistake. "So's you ain't Sarah?" Shaking her head, sticking out her right hand in introductory fashion, Emerson proceeded to do so. "You probably would not remember me, I think you were headed out on a date the night my father and I were here. I'm Emerson Lewis."  
  
With a bit of a blank look on his face, Mush searched the inner workings of his mind. "I never forgets a girl. Ain't that true Jack."  
  
"Yup, Mush here has the face of every girl he's ever met in his head. Mush, Emerson here is the daughter of the guy who paid our lodging fees during the strike."  
  
"Really? Whatcha doin' here?"  
  
"It's a long story Mush best left for in the morning when we can talk to everyone."  
  
"Yeah, right, whatever you say, Jack."  
  
Unable to hold in another one, Emerson covered her mouth as she pulled in a large breath of the cool April air and yawned. The contagiousness spread through them all and back again creating a symphony of yawns.  
  
"It seems we could all use a bit more of sleep before morning. Let's head back inside."  
  
Emerson wanted to protest, but her droopy eyes and continuous yawning betrayed her. Finally concurring with Jack's assessment she allowed the boys to escort her off the roof, back down the stairs and through the window into the third floor. Mush continued down the fire escape to the boy's room a Jack helped her to settle back into bed.  
  
"There are a few spare beds downstairs. It's not by far the cleanest or quietest, but if you want to come down, we have room."  
  
"Jack, no offence to you or any of the boys, but I think it is best I stay of here. The others do not know about me yet. What would happen in the morning if they work up with me there?"  
  
"Uh, yeah, they's used to strange guys showing up from time to time, but we don't get many girls here." Shuffling his feet, looking a little nervous as if not sure what to say next, Jack helped her to lay the mattress back on the floor.  
  
"Well, Jack, I guess I'll see you in the morning. Thank you for missing a couple hours of sleep to talk. It was just what I needed."  
  
"Hey, anytime, um, listen, I could stay up here with you so's you won't be alone."  
  
"Thank you, but I'm sure I will be fine." "Okay then, I'm right at the bottom of these stairs if you need anything."  
  
Emerson smiled at his concern and reluctance to leave her alone. "Goodnight, Jack."  
  
Settling onto the mattress, laying her head on the pillow, Emerson let out a low sigh of relief. Jack cracked a slight grin and threw an extra blanket over her before turning to the stairs.  
  
"Goodnight, Em." 


	15. Fourteen

Hello all!! A hearty thank you to all who reviewed, as always it is wonderful to see my three faithful followers once again and a welcome back to Kaylee. Also, a thank you through flushed face to my anonymous reviewer for your kind words, but in defense of my fellow writers, there are some very more than a little decent stories out there. Not all time travel fics were created equal (you know who you are-Raeghann-and so do all the rest of us, so take a quick curtsy and blow a few kisses). Hope you enjoy this Rhapsody; I'm setting you up for something, but what? Also, good pick up on the pet name!! And finally Dreamer dear, I know everyone is busy and I should not use that as an excuse. I am taking the time to work on this at the office while on lunch and breaks. A quick note on the Varuca comment, don't forget what happened to her in the movie!! One more thing before I let you all go to read the story----why do we, as fanfic writers, I mean, have the newsies meet for lunch at Tibby's all the time? Just wondering, seems like a conspiracy or something. Do we really think they stopped and paid for lunch EVERYDAY?  
  
  
  
Lying on his bunk, Jack on his back wide-awake, unable to sleep thinking about the girl upstairs and her problems. Over the years, he had seen almost every kind of trouble possible, but if what she told him was true, they were up against something worse than ever imagined. Many of the boys came from turbulent backgrounds, but none of them had ever been on the run from unknown people having to beware of everyone.  
  
Maybe it was because he was on the rebound from his recent love loss, maybe it was because of the danger the surrounded her, maybe it was simply that she slightly resembled Sarah or maybe it was just her, of the reasons he was not sure, but when she leaned against him, he had felt something. Haunting his mind and aiding in is insomnia, Jack could still feel the remnants of her warmth. The girl was strong-willed, but not in a masculine manner, sensitive, but not overly feminine, intelligent but not a snob, or at least she had not intended to be, about her education and she listened. Sarah had always seemed to be somewhere else when he spoke. As if what he said never mattered much to her.  
  
"That's enough thought about the girl Jacky-boy. She's from another world anyway. How could she ever be interested in you?"  
  
Upstairs Emerson lie awake with thoughts of her own. The sound of his voice as he called her "Em", just as her father and only her father had done, lingered in her ears filling her mind with his stories, his eyes, his strong demeanor and personality. She could not help but be reminded of her father. Jack had given her comfort and strength without being asked. He wanted her trust, wanted to help her, wanted her to feel safe. She almost could-almost, but there was something in her that held out. Emerson learned through the years that trust was not something to be given lightly.  
  
"Okay, Emerson, get it together. He is just a boy. How could he ever be interested in you anyway?"  
  
Emerson fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep finding herself well rested, but wanting more sleep as she woke up to a man banging on the walls below.  
  
"Come on boys, up, up, up. Time to carry the banner; let's go move it up and at 'em."  
  
Grumbling from the residents below told Emerson she was not the only one wishing for more sleep. Listening to their shuffling about comforted her in the safety that she was not alone. Below her some twenty or so boys were being dragged from bed and off to ready themselves for the day at hand.  
  
Knowing it would only be a matter of time before she would be greeting them herself; Emerson crawled off her own bed, lifted the mattress back against the wall and folded her blankets. Tugging her bag out of the closet, opening it and producing an object, she carefully pulled the sliver-handled brush through her hair. Because it was shorter, the task was fairly easy compared to the day before. Only once did she feel pain from a small tangle as the brush caught in her hair. The dye had left it with a terrible smell, but the several washings and conditioning left it soft as she ran her fingers through it. Though she lost several inches in length, it was still long enough for her to pull away from her face, a few minutes and pins later only the slightest wisps remained.  
  
Only just finishing the door below opened and footsteps trampled up the stairs. Emerson rose from the window seat to welcome whoever might be on the way up. Jack was the first to reach the top followed by Mush, the boy she met the night before, a tall boy with an eye patch, a short boy with a cigar hanging out the corner of his mouth and a boy with dark curly hair and a sprinkling of freckles over his nose.  
  
"Guys, you remember Emerson Lewis, don't you?"  
  
Thinking as they looked her up and down, Emerson could see a bit of recognition in the faces of the boys. Yes, they knew her from somewhere, that she could tell, but they could not remember from where or when.  
  
"Geez, don't yous guys retain anything?"  
  
"Retain, Jack?" The shorter boy asked pushing the cigar a little further into the corner so he could speak around it.  
  
"Remember, you schumck."  
  
"Thanks Kid, buncha fine guys you is, Emerson's father is the guy who helped out in the financial area during the strike. You might remember now that he and his daughter," Jack paused motioning toward her, "made a visit here to the house one night."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I's retaining now Jack, you and me was telling stories." Taking her hand, Racetrack gently kissed it failing to remove the cigar first. "Uh, sorry about that."  
  
Emerson smiled at the boy's attempt at chivalry while fighting the urge to laugh. They had lived through so much and still tried to help everyone they met feel more at ease. "Hello again, let me see if my recall is any better than yours Racetrack."  
  
Stunned into silence, he nodded his head in affirmation. Turning from him to his left she smiled warmly and greeted Mush.  
  
"Mush, I met you last evening, lovely to see you in the daylight."  
  
Race, Blink and Davey raised their eyebrows in his direction careful to keep their mouths closed for fear of what might leap out causing problems for their friend.  
  
"It ain't like that guys, Jack was up on the roof with her when I went to find him last night."  
  
Turning on heels from Mush to face Jack each of them sporting and equally inquisitive look of accusation.  
  
"Fellas, Emerson here has found herself in a bit of trouble."  
  
Kid Blink pulled his gaze from Jack and asked the question on the minds of their minds directly to her. Emerson appreciated the fact they recognized she was in the room and we not acting as if she did not exist. Figuring it was a natural reaction to having been ignored so much in their own lives, she went on to tell the story taking note of the concerned look on each of their faces.  
  
Laying out the story, she was shocked at Jack's seldom interruption. He had a way of interjecting everyone's thoughts during the telling of stories or so it seemed. She supposed it was because he was able to explain things better, sort of a translator between the more and less educated.  
  
"And that is what has brought me to your humble home."  
  
"I brought you guys up here to hear the story so we can keep an ear out while selling. There is bound to be a story about her missing and someone out there knows something."  
  
"So, what's the plan Jack?"  
  
"I'm taking her to see Medda today and we'll figure out the rest from there. Medda might have an idea or two.  
  
"Taking her to see Medda is a good idea since she was so worried about her yesterday."  
  
"Ha! Then you must be David. I think you were sick when Father and I were here, but your little brother is quite the drama king."  
  
"Yes that he is."  
  
Introductions had been cut short and Emerson was determined to meet each of the boys individually as she was placing her life in their hands. Taking the time to finish them, she turned to the final boy.  
  
"And I remember you, the charmer of the bunch, Kid Blink."  
  
Embarrassed by the remark, instant heat flushed through his face, suddenly finding his shoes very interesting.  
  
"Well, guys keep your eyes and ears open and your mouths closed. We'll meet you all at Tibby's for lunch." 


	16. Fifteen

Emerson knew the impact Jack would feel in his pockets by not selling the morning papers causing even greater admiration for him. She wanted to find a way to pay him for his graciousness, but knew he would never accept payment. They walked in silence to Irving Hall, left to their thoughts, Emerson of how to repay Jack and Jack's of how to keep her safe.  
  
Arriving at Medda's, Jack led her up the stairs into the office of the owner. Seated behind a desk, pouring over what appeared to be financial statements, the woman raised her head in response to the knock on the door. Seeing Jack and the girl, she immediately ceased working on the books, stood, walked around the desk to greet her guests. While the girl looked vaguely familiar to her, Medda was not able to place her by sight alone.  
  
Stepping into the office a little behind Jack, Emerson felt an instant wave of tears sting her eyes and partial nausea hit her upon seeing the woman she had known since birth. Flooded back into her mind were thoughts of her parents, remembering her mother's jealousy and her father's loyalty to her. She now knew her father saw her as the little sister he never had and her mother's insecurity unfounded. Emerson noticed the look of confusion on Medda's face springing from her new appearance. Relief filled her from this realization, if someone she had known for life did not recognize her; maybe the person looking for her would have a similar fate.  
  
"Medda!" Leaping from the doorway to hug the woman they came to see, Emerson was happy to see her identity become known after she spoke.  
  
Pushing her away to look into the girl's face, Medda's look of worry filled hey eyes as she spoke. "Emerson sweetie, it's so good to see you. How have you been kid?"  
  
"I am okay, I miss Mother and Father, but I'm okay."  
  
"Where have you been? I've stopped by the house several times."  
  
Jack stepped up in usual fashion, seeing Emerson on the verge of able to fight her tears for not much longer. "It seems John and Anna's accident wasn't so much an accident after all."  
  
"Emerson, tell me what he means?" Leading her over to the couch in the office, the trio sat, Emerson between the old family friend and her new confidant.  
  
Swallowing her urge to let the tears fall, she spoke deliberately but quietly in fear of choking on them. "Medda, one of the men who worked in Mr. Blackburn's company talked to me after the funeral. Apparently, it was not an accident that had Sammy cleaning the floor. My father continuing support to that man's factory seemed unlikely due to his position on children's rights. Had they finished their tour and spoken to the worker's, Father would have been in his lawyer's office within the hour. Without his backing to the factory, Mr. Blackburn would have been forced to shut his doors." Briefly pausing, Emerson stood in need of pacing the floor. Pacing was something her father always did to help him think, it was a nervous habit really, but some of his best business ideas came through his late night pacing.  
  
"I have no idea what I'm doing. Maybe it would be better to go to the police myself instead of waiting for Mr. Phiscomb to come back."  
  
"I think you are right to wait for the lawyer. You have no idea who might be looking for you besides who is going to look for you in the newsies lodging house. No one, except the boys knew of his connections to them. I'm sure Jack and the boys will not mind your staying with them for a few days, would you Jack?" Medda asked in a knowing manner. She noticed the way in which he looked at Emerson, the expression of care on his face.  
  
"Uh, no, in fact, we've hid several people over the years."  
  
Emerson did not need to ask for validation of this statement, she heard several of the boy's stories and knew that most of them had been on the run from someone or something in their pasts. Jack, needing to further his own justification, continued speaking about them, ignoring the fact she had heard most of their tales.  
  
"In fact it's how half the boys came to the house. Take Blink, for example, he was on the run from the bulls for something he didn't do, or claimed he didn't do, when he ran into Snoddy. Snoddy brought him back till his name was cleared. He's been with us ever since. And Crutchy, his father was a terrible drunk, a couple of the guys found him in an alley passed out from a beating. So, what do you say, do you want to join me and the guys for a few days?"  
  
"Well, since I was planning to hide out there before fully learning it was a wayward home for lost causes, I suppose this just strengthens my thoughts."  
  
Medda let out a small chuckle before speaking again. "That's Jack, St. Jude to the newsies."  
  
Seeing the questioning look on his face, Medda went on to explain, "St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes."  
  
"I definitely ain't no saint."  
  
"Well, kids, I have an act to do. Please stay if you like and enjoy the show." Standing with the help of Jack's offered hand, Medda walked over to the desk Emerson leaned against, hugging her one last time. "You come back and see me once this mess is cleared up."  
  
  
  
Once again, a hearty thank you and group hug to all who reviewed!!!! My apologies once again for lingering on the outside of the shout out thing.maybe I'll cave to them sooner or later..in the meantime (we won't actually call these shout outs even though they closely resemble them)....to Scott and Chad who most likely won't read any further, I'll tie you both down and make you watch the movie. As for the estrogen level, yeah, you could be in for a bit of trouble here. Kaylee, I can see where Race is a charmer, but Emerson thinks Blink is the biggest, followed closely by Mush. Who could resist those dimples? Rhapsody, you want romance? Hmmmmmm...I'll see what I can do, but no promises. Hey, had to give you a little something to keep you interested. Dreamer, love the new fic and updated bio. Keep up the great work. Speaking of work.I have been let go from my temp position so I should have more time to work on the really important stuff-like updating. Drama Queen, glad you like it so far. Hope to see you around again soon. I'm working on catching up on the Whisper story and hope to be in a few days. I love those characters. And last, but not least to Reaghann, without who's help and encouragement I would not be able to go on..thanks hon. 


	17. Sixteen

Jonesy decided this would be the last day he would spend of his search around Irving Hall. After a bit of research he learned the owner of the establishment had been a friend of John Lewis. Seeking out a familiar face in time of need seemed like a reasonable strategy. His first stop on the trip of Emerson's familiar faces was to the Monroe household. Having spoken to the woman of the house, he was sure not to give away his identity or his intentions.  
  
After knocking on the door, he stood back from the house waiting for someone from inside to greet him. Before him stood a grand two story Victorian style home, yellow in color with white shutters and pillars. The porch on which he waited supported an upper level balcony. Double French doors opened out to the terrace from a room on the second story where white cast iron furniture awaited an afternoon tea. Catching a glimpse of a figure moving through the window, Jonesy stepped back over toward the door anticipating friendly response to his inquiry of the Lewis girl.  
  
Mrs. Monroe, a short, full-figured, blonde haired woman in her mid-forties, offering a pleasant but quizzical smile opened the door. Jonesy plastered on his best falsie and spoke with what he hoped was great concern in his voice, explaining his relationship to the family, wondering if Emerson had paid them a visit following the funeral of her parents.  
  
"Well, no, I'm sorry, Mr. I do not think I got your name."  
  
"James. Edmond James."  
  
"Mr. James, I have not seen Emerson, the poor dear. Losing both her parents in such a tragic manner must have left quite a bit of distress with her. Mr. Monroe and I asked her to move in, to stay with us for a while, but she politely declined our offer saying she wanted things to return to normal as soon as possible. I do hope she is okay such a lovely girl."  
  
"Yes." Keeping his answer short, Jonesy hoped would lessen the amount of personal information his host felt comfortable to share. The less he knew about his prey, the easier the job. Listening to this woman speak of Miss Lewis, learning of her personality, meeting friends, putting a person to his quarry might make his task more difficult.  
  
"She and my daughter, Sheila have been friends since they were tots, let me ask her if she might know of Emerson's whereabouts."  
  
Rising from her seat in the lounge upon hearing her name, Sheila placed her book on the side table and made her way to the door where her mother stood talking to a pleasant looking man.  
  
Resisting the urge to tug at the collar of his fully buttoned shirt, Jonesy jammed his hands into the pockets of the suit pants he wore. Mr. Wells, an assistant of Blackburn sent over to make him presentable to the company of people the Lewis' would have kept, knotted the blue tie tightly and neatly. As he stood before Mrs. Monroe and her daughter, Jonesy perceived the makeover a success.  
  
"There you are Sheila dear; Mr. James here is, um, was a friend of John and Anna. Since the funeral, he has been trying to call on Emerson to pay condolences, but she seems to have disappeared. Did she happen to mention anything to you about going to stay with anyone?"  
  
Looking the man up and down, Sheila thought he looked friendly enough, but in all the time she and Emerson had been friends she never heard this man's name mentioned. Over the years, Sheila was introduced to many of the Lewis family friends and business associates. Solitude being only a dream to the middle child of seven, she practically lived in the home of her friend who had no siblings. Only a few seconds passed before Sheila remembered how frightened her friend seemed during her late night visit.  
  
"No, Mother, she did not mention anything to me about where she might have gone." Technically, it was not a lie; she really had no idea where Emerson was headed when she climbed out the window.  
  
"Thank you for your time, I am sorry to have troubled you." Jonesy felt the girl was holding something back, but had no choice except to end the visit.  
  
"No trouble, sir, I hope Emerson is well. Do stop back by if there is anything we can do to aid in your search." Closing the door, Susan Monroe turned to her daughter.  
  
"Now that he is gone, why don't you tell me what you do know?"  
  
"It was the truth; I really do not know where Emerson went."  
  
"But you do know something."  
  
"I promised not to say anything."  
  
"Sheila," Susan Monroe took her daughter's hand and sat on the steps, which led to the second story of their home. "Emerson might be in some sort of trouble."  
  
Letting out a deep sigh, Sheila knew she would no longer be able to keep quiet. "Emerson came through my window the night after the funeral. She seemed very afraid of something."  
  
"What do you mean afraid?"  
  
"She asked me to help her cut and dye her hair to change her appearance a little. She is trying to hide out until John's lawyer comes back from holiday. She gave me an envelope and asked me to deliver it to his office on Friday."  
  
"An envelope? What's inside the envelope?"  
  
"I do not know and I will not disregard her wishes by opening it. Emerson asked me to deliver the package and I plan to respect her request by doing so."  
  
Susan knew by the set expression on her daughter's face that she meant every word she said. Deciding not to further question Sheila's intentions, she turned her thoughts to the well-being of the missing girl. "Do you think Emerson is okay?"  
  
"Mother, you know as well as I do that Emerson Lewis is very resourceful. I am quite sure she knows exactly what she is doing."  
---------------------------------------------------  
Rhapsody: Sorry, no romance here, but maybe in future chapters? What's the scoop on your story? I've been checking for an update, but am left feeling sad-well, that's what it said before you updated one day before I post this. Hope to see more from you soon. Thanks for the review and well wishes, they both mean very much to me.  
  
Dreamer: First a thank you for updating HP!! Always nice to see an update on a story you love and can't wait for more to post. Secondly thank you for your review and continuing support. I hope this update was worth the wait and not too disappointing. We'll go back to Medda's in the next chapter. =)  
  
Kaylee: Sorry Racetrack didn't make it into this chapter, but I really don't think he would have fit unless he could be one of Sheila's siblings. Hmmmmmm..have to figure something out for Race. *Scribbling note for future chapter to add a bit more Race for Kaylee.*  
  
Jinx: I'm sure you're not reading this, but in the event that anyone else wonders, yes, they did have fire extinguishers in 1900. I try not to use anything without first researching.  
  
Drama-Queen: Many thanks to you and your characters for your well wishes and special thanks for the dedication of your story to me. I really am flattered and cannot wait for an update!!  
  
Sparker: Glad you stopped in for a read. I may be over the hill, but I love the boys as much as you young un's do. Thank you for the review and the swift updates on Angie. I love that quality in an author!!  
  
And finally...  
  
Raven's Wing: Thank you much for taking the time to read and review each chapter. Please send my thanks to the reader who sent you over, it's wonderful to know that someone has enjoyed it enough to recommend it to another. I hope to blow all hints of predictability out the window over the next couple of chapters. 


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